Separately Together Again
by Autumn29
Summary: The Trio is grown up now, and friends have become enemies and enemies allies. Ron hasn't seen Hermione for six years, and she's changed. Harry's starting to see Ginny in a whole new light, and he wonders how he could battle the Dark Lord fearlessly, yet c
1. Default Chapter

Ronald Weasley glared at his reflection. A grumpy, frustrated twenty-three year old glared back at him. He sighed and turned on the faucet, splashing water all over his face. Damn. He still wasn't awake. He turned it to cold and splashed himself. Good Lord, if he kept this up, he'd be late for work (again -- how many times had he been late? It felt like forty-six, though he knew that couldn't be right ... much less than that) and there'd be hell to pay with Kingsley.

He stared at his reflection. To hell with Kingsley. A few minutes is nothing.

He pulled off his boxers and turned the shower on as hot as he could stand. He was one of the few Weasleys that didn't believe in cold showers, along with Bill and Dad. He grimaced. His father was dead, had been dead ... so he should just not even go there today. Think of something else. Like how Kingsley is going to beat the shit out of you. Yeah, there's a pleasant thought.

Suddenly, he heard a loud noise. Tapping. Strange, he thought to himself. Is that Pig?

Stepping quickly out of the shower (oops, a little too quick, almost fell there), he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed into his bedroom. At the window sat an impatient looking Hedwig, her large brown eyes glaring at him accusingly.

"Oh, don't give me that," he snapped. "I'm the one late, not you. What? I'm not -- " Hedwig was sitting there, waiting for him to write a response.

"No," he said firmly. "I'll read this later, Hedwig. I'm LATE, get it? Late?" She sat on the bed resolutely. She wasn't budging.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," he cried. He glanced towards the clock. To his amazement, he still had ten minutes to spare -- enough time to respond to Harry. He grabbed the parchment off the bed, scowling at Hedwig, and opened it. Luckily, Harry's neat writing covered only a third of the page.

_Dear Ron,_

_Hello, Weasley. I'm writing from you-know-where, and you'll-never-believe-who says hi. (I'll explain later.) You'll never believe what's happening. Well, I'll tell you later if you-know-who doesn't tell you herself. Anyway, I'll be back soon. Maybe even today, -- which reminds me, it's March thirtieth, turn your clock ahead an hour. Daylight Savings, isn't it great? Hehe, not. Well, gotta go!_

_-- Your favorite you-know-what,_

_Harry_

Ron stared at it. He assumed Harry had put a Secretive Charm on it, which would explain all the "you-know-who's", so he wasn't really worried about that. He kept reading one sentence over and over.

" ... which reminds me, it's March thirtieth, turn your clock ahead an hour ... " Shit. He was going to be late, again.

"Dammit," Ron sighed, accepting fate. He grabbed his quill and turned the parchment over.

_Harry --_

_Late for work again, can you believe it? Ah, well. Hurry back. Thanks for the heads up about Daylight Savings, pal. Lovely to have a forewarning. Hope things are well in ... um ... wherever you are. Anyway, gotta go, bye!_

_--Ron_

_P.S. And you're not my favorite anything, Potter._

Chuckling to himself, he tied the parchment to Hedwig's leg and watched her fly out the window. He put on his work robes and Disapparated, wondering how bad of a lecture he'd be getting from Kingsley.

"Forty-six times, Weasley," Kingsley said, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head. Ron wished he had a chair. His legs ached from walking up all the stairs to get to this office, and all he wanted was to sit and relax. Kingsley had other ideas.

"How do you get to be late forty-six times? And each time, I have to cover your ass. Well, my excuses are running low. I don't know what else to tell your brother. There is no doubt in my mind that Percy's patience with you is growing thin. So this time, this forty-sixth time, I think you can explain to the Minister why you are late. By yourself. Because forty-six -- "

"Forty-six is _not_ a happy number," said a falsely stern voice from the doorway, and Ron chuckled. He didn't have to turn to recognize that voice.

"Hello, Harry," said Kingsley, giving a half-exasperated, half-amused sigh. "What brings you here?"

"Mind if I borrow Ron for a second?" asked Harry, grinning and clapping Ron on the back. Ron was trying to hold back a smile for fear of losing his job.

"No, I suppose I don't, but Percy wants him at one o'clock ... and don't let him be late, will you, Harry?"

"Sure thing, Kingsley," Harry replied, and Ron left as quickly as possible.

"Saved my ass, mate. I was afraid I was going to be fired for sure."

"Well, the way you're going, it wouldn't surprise me, Ron. Was he serious? You've been late forty-six times?" Harry was staring at Ron incredulously. Ron scowled.

"Hey, just because you're the teacher's pet doesn't mean we all have to measure up to your standards -- "

"Measure up to my standards?" Harry cried, not sure whether to laugh or not. "I didn't say tardiness is unacceptable, just that repeated tardiness is. Forty-six times tardiness is."

Ron said nothing. The truth was, he'd been having ... dreams lately. Weird ones. He couldn't remember anything from them, and it drove him nuts. He knew who they focused on, though. He always woke up, panting, arms hugging someone invisible, and he could smell a perfume wafting tantalizingly in front of his nose, and oh, how he ached to know ... ached to remember why he thought of her, even after all these years. How long had it been?

"Ron?" Harry asked. Ron was standing, frozen, in the doorway to the office they shared, lost in thought.

"Oh, sorry," he replied, shaking his head to clear it and sitting down at his desk. Ah, that's the ticket. "So, uh, ... how was -- erm -- where did you go, by the way?"

"Bulgaria," said Harry, smiling. "And I wanted to tell you -- guess who I ran into?"

Ron shrugged, still trying to relax his muscles.

"Hermione Jane Granger," said Harry in a rush, as though he'd been waiting to tell Ron for days.

"Hermione?" Ron croaked incredulously. Ice was flooding his stomach. Her, it was her, he couldn't believe it! "How is she? What's she doing for a living? Is -- "

"Ron, calm down," Harry laughed, grinning broadly. "She's doing great. She's a Healer at St. Mungo's now, and she's rolling in the cash. Not that you'd know it -- can you believe she's saving her money? She lives in a small, one-bedroom house, nothing fancy, but she's making more than you and I combined, mate! Can you imagine?"

"Is she coming down here? When can she visit?" Ron asked, excitement coursing through him. "I -- " but then a thought struck him. Hard.

" .. be here next week, maybe, because she's taking a break from work," Harry was saying. Ron looked at Harry, then at a picture on his desk. There they were, at the end of seventh year, the infamous trio, Harry's arms looped around both he and Hermione, all three of them laughing. Hermione's face was shining with tears. Ron watched as his photographic self put bunny ears on Harry's head.

"Harry," said Ron, in an oddly low voice. "Why's she in Bulgaria?"

Uh-oh. Harry had been waiting for that one. He tried to dance around it, but Ron had made the connection. Ron had to know, but if Harry, perhaps, lied -- but no, that wouldn't work. Lying solved absolutely none of his problems. Maybe if he pretended he didn't hear him, or something ... but then, that would also be, in a sense, lying. The truth was, he'd been expecting and dreading that question since he knew the answer.

Two days previous ...

He was standing in line at the Bulgarian Gringotts, tapping his foot impatiently and checking his watch every ten seconds. His foot sounded out a rhythm. "Gonna be late, gonna be late, hachacha, latelatelate, .. " he found himself muttering, earning him strange looks from the man behind him. The worst part was, he couldn't even see how far the front of the line was from where he stood -- the woman in front of him had such a thick head of hair. Brown and bushy, it stuck out in both directions. Way too much body. Definitely obscuring his vision. Perhaps a polite yet firm request to step out of the way. Yes, that would do.

"Excuse me, miss?" he said, politely as possible. "Would you -- "

His query was cut short. When she had turned around, his brain had frozen for a second. He knew that face.

"Harry James Potter," said Hermione in awe, staring at him for a second before beaming and wrapping him into a tight hug. He was laughing, amazed, and returned her hug. She pulled away first and he stood, staring at her, unable to speak.

"How have you been?" she asked, still smiling widely, but behind her eyes was an unplacable sadness. Harry unstuck his tongue.

"I can't believe it's you! You look great! Why are you here? How are you doing? Where are you staying?" Words seemed to be tumbling out of Harry's mouth of their own will. Hermione laughed, the look still in her eyes.

"I've been doing fine, I've been living with my fiancee," she said, smiling shyly at the astonished look on Harry's face.

Harry felt his jaw drop. "Who is it? Someone I know?"

She nodded mysteriously, and then extended her hand. Harry stared at the ring in awe. It was the most gorgeous thing he had laid eyes on.

"Oh, Miss 'Mione, I am not worthy," he laughed, examining it in amazement. "Who is the lucky -- and apparently filthy rich -- guy?"

She blushed, then replied hesitantly, "Viktor Krum."

Harry's jaw just about fell off.

"Oh -- my God," he said, and then he grabbed her hand again and looked it over once more. "You're going to -- how long?"

"Until we get married?" Hermione asked, confused.

"How long have you been together?"

"Since I turned eighteen. He just proposed two weeks ago."

Harry frowned. "But doesn't that make him -- " he stopped for a second, doing the math in his head, " -- twenty-seven?"

A shadow of a frown washed over her face, then she nodded. "Yes, actually. And ... age doesn't matter."

Haryy stood there for a moment, half-frozen; this was definitely a different Hermione than the one of his past. But then he shook his head, grinned, and pulled her into another hug. "As long as you're happy," he whispered, smiling, and she hugged him tighter.

They broke apart, and for a second Hermione said nothing, just smiled at Harry in the way she used to when they were kids, and Harry thought that evn though she'd changed, she was still basically the same Hermione he knew. Harry just remembered -- Ron.

"Oh, Hermione, you've got to come back to Britain, Ron will want to see you!" Harry said, and Hermione frowned a little. She started to shake her head, then sighed.

"Yes, Ron Weasley," she said, and her eyes went a little out of focus, as though remembering something, and she frowned again.

Hesitantly, she'd taken out her pocket calendar and made sure that she had next week totally open, and promised to come and visit. And the rest of the afternoon was spent waiting in line, talking about the past and the present, teasing each other. It had felt good.

"Ron," Harry said, and then he walked over and put his hand on Ron's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"Harry, why was she -- "

"She wants to come see you, mate. We can make our friendship all over again. And if you're a good friend, you'll be okay with this ... she's engaged to Viktor Krum."

Harry let the words wash over Ron, knowing it would sting. To everyone but Ron, it had been obvious Ron had liked Hermione. Loved her, he should say. Hermione even knew, on some level. And perhaps she had loved him back. But his chance had come and gone, and now she was engaged to someone else, and Ron would just have to deal.

"Oh," said Ron. His head was in his hands, so Harry couldn't see his expression, but he sounded hurt. Harry squeezed his shoulder again.

"Ron, I know it might hurt, but -- "

"Hurt?" said Ron, finally looking up at him. Ah, yes, the familiar unreadable mask. Harry knew Ron too well.

"Yes, mate, hurt. It's a normal human feeling, just like .. love." He said the last word a bit quieter, hoping Ron would understand ... but Ron will be Ron, he supposed.

"Are you -- you think I -- shut up, Harry. I don't care who Hermione's banging. I never have, never will. If she wants to throw her life away with that scumbag Krum, why should I care, right?"

"Right," said Harry, walking over to his side of the office. He was angry. God, couldn't Ron just ... why did he still act fifteen? Couldn't he just ... grow up? Merlin, it was frustrating. And he, Harry, wasn't going to put up with it.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What's what supposed to mean?"

"'Right'. What do you mean, 'right'?"

Harry slammed some files onto the desk in front of him, and then he paused. He looked up. Ron's face was full of emotion, but he was as stubborn as ever. Harry sighed.

"Nothing, Ron. Sorry."

Ron was silent. Then he stood up, walked out of the room, and slammed the door behind him.

Harry stared at the picture on his desk. He, Ron and Hermione, taken middle of seventh year. He watched as he stole a Chocolate Frog from Ron and they wrestled over it, Hermione with this look on her face, like, "Boys will be boys ... " He found himself smiling.

Rubbing his head, he stood up, stretching. Ron was probably in a bathroom, splashing water on his face repeatedly like he always does. And Harry wasn't in a position to march down there and demand that he accept that he has or did have feelings for Hermione Jane Granger, however dearly he may like to. So he got to filing, humming to himself, wondering when he himself would find a nice girl and settle down.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2: IN WHICH HERMIONE REMINISCES OF THE GOOD OLE DAYS, GINNY AND HARRY GET AWKWARD, AND MALFOY MAKES A CAMEO 

Hermione stared into the water, slowly kicking her feet and watching the tiny waves move outward. The dock on which she sat was worn, from Fred and George jumping off of it on summer days and her and Ginny playing footsie on the very edge, whispering secrets to one another in the dead of night and holding hands and dreaming about the future. The rough wood was bringing memories rushing back to her, and she twisted arund to gaze at the Burrow, where she had spent many of her summers growing up. At the moment, the lights were off and the entire house seemed to be asleep.   
She'd been coming here for the past two days, always when she knew Mrs. Weasley was away or asleep. She had thought her life was perfect -- a Healer, with money, and a great, sensitive guy ... and then this. She'd thought they were just her past. She'd thought she'd left them behind her. She'd started over new. She was going to be Hermione Krum soon.   
But these were her best friends, the people she'd grown up with, shared secrets with, and in Ron's case, fallen in love with.   
So why did she feel like they were ruining everything?   
It wasn't that she didn't miss them. It was more like ... she didn't want them to see what she'd become. She'd spoken with Harry and she could tell he was just the same -- his voice a little deeper, his eyes a bit more haunted -- but still her Harry. And she knew Ron would still be Ron, the same loud, funny, speak-before-you-think kid -- er, man, -- that she grew up with.   
But Hermione had changed. There was no doubt about it. Her hair was still bushy, her nose still turned up in that superior-looking way, and her eyes still (in her opinion) boring brown. But she'd started wearing make-up and wearing pretty clothes that made her feel good about herself instead of walking around, completely oblivious as to what anyone thought of her figure. She was even more uptight than usual, and she was always checking her watch, ... if everyone saw her like this ... they'd know she was different, and she didn't want them to. She wanted them to go away and yet she needed them here.   
'Funny,' she thought bitterly to herself, trying not to notice the tears in her eyes as she slipped her legs out of the water, picking up her socks, 'how everything just works out like this ...'

Harry entered the cramped office and stopped abruptly. Odd. It was empty.   
He cleared his throat. "Uh, Ginny?" he asked, breaking the silence, and immediately he heard a thump and a muffled, "Dammit!"   
A head popped up from behind the desk, glaring at him accusingly through a sheet of red hair, but Ginny's expression softened when she saw who it was.   
"Am I interrupting something?" Harry asked, trying to hide his smile. Ginny rolled her eyes.   
"No, no way, interrupt me? Why, whatever you need I'd be delighted to help you with, please, come to me for every tedious little thing you need done. I'm never busy, and nothing's more important to me than what you need. Gee, it sure is a good thing I'm not focused on something else, because you coming in here for no real reason would really piss me off."   
Harry sighed and tossed the file he'd brought onto her desk. "Fine," he said wearily. "I can take a hint." He turned to leave.   
"Wait, Harry," Ginny said, getting up. "Sorry. It's just, well, ... if it isn't one person coming in to give me more work, it's some idiot who doesn't know what they're doing and," she paused, rubbing her temples, "I'm just kinda stressed out." She smiled weakly at him. He managed a small grin back, and then walked around behind her.   
"What are you -- ohhh," she murmured, as her rubbed her shoulders. She rolled her head around on her neck. He laughed a little, and tried to ignore the pleasantly tingling sensation in his fingers at the touch of her skin.   
"How does that feel?" he asked, his voice breaking a little.   
"Mmmm, much better. Now, what is it you need?"   
She turned to face him, and Harry sucked in his breath. They were best friends, but he was always taken aback by how beautiful she was, and right now their faces were inches apart. His eyes traveled down to her lips, and for a second, time seemed to stop. Then Ginny turned away uncomfortably. She didn't speak.   
"Er, I ... I needed ..." What fif he need? He shook his head for a second -- I"Just friends!!"/I his mind hissed -- and cleared his head. "I needed to give you the file report there, and also ... to tell you something ... " He was still trying to regain his composure. She turned to look at him, her face expressionless.   
"Oh?" she asked, pretending to be busy with some papers on her desk. There was a hint of anxiety in her voice.   
"Yeah, uh, do you remember Hermione Granger?"   
Ginny looked up at him, her eyebrow arched slightly. "Yes, I do."   
"She's coming to meet Ron and I for lunch at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow, and I -- er -- we wanted to know if you wanted to come."   
Ginny immediately froze. She stared at him for a second, and then her face broke into a huge grin. "Are you serious?!" she exclaimed, dropping the papers onto the floor.   
"Of course," said Harry, also smiling now. Thank God, the awkward moment was finally over.   
Ginny did a little skip and suddenly her jaw dropped. "Oh my God," she said, in a very school girlish way, "does Ron know?"   
Harry sighed. "Uh, Gin, I don't think Ron's as happy about this as you are."   
Ginny stared at him. "What do you mean? Why the hell not?"   
"Because the Mudblood's engaged."   
They both jumped a little at the voice from the doorway, and Draco Malfoy grinned at them. He tossed another folder onto Ginny's desk, who was speechless.   
"Malfoy?" Harry asked, unable to believe what he was seeing. Malfoy works for the Ministry?   
"The one and only," smirked Malfoy, clearly delighted at Harry's confusion. "And I expect I'll be seeing you an awful lot more now that my office is next to dear Ginevra's." Ginny suddenly found her voice.   
"You're shitting me," she said, standing slowly.   
"I shit you not, Weasel Queen," he snapped, and with a quick sneer at Harry he was gone. Harry immediately leapt up to follow him. Nobody called Ginny Weasley names, not if he had a say in it, and especially not if his wand was in proper working order.   
He flung open the door to Malfoy's office, reaching into his robes for his wand, and came face to face with Malfoy's wand, square between his eyes. Harry froze.   
"You need to take a step back," said Malfoy, in a husky voice. Harry stared at him, unmoving. Then he slowly edged backward.   
Malfoy nodded. "A bit more," he said, just loudly enough for Harry to hear him.   
"No," said Harry firmly, but Malfoy moved the wand so close to his head he felt it graze the skin lightly.   
"IYes/I," he muttered. "Just a bit."   
Harry grudgingly took a miniscule step backward and at once, the door slammed in his face, and he was left staring at the white-painted wood. He sighed and leaned his head against the door for a moment, then walked back to Ginny's office, where she looked at him anxiously.   
"Well?" she said impatiently, crossing her arms. "Did you kick his ass?"   
"No," Harry admitted, frowning. "But rest assured I will, if he ever unlocks the door."   
Ginny nodded, and then she smiled.   
"So, where's Ron, anyways?"   
"At home, taking a nap," Harry answered heavily, but Ginny snorted.   
"A nap? Yeah right, more like beating his meat at the thought of seeing Hermione again."   
Harry stared at her for a second, not sure whether to laugh or make a face, and then decided on both.   
"You sick minded little girl."   
"I get it from my brothers," she admitted, and Harry watched as she sorted files, her hands smoothly placing them in the correct folders, and found himself hypnotized. She was beautiful, wasn't she? Ginny paused, looking up at him, and he felt himself go red.   
"I should get back to work," he said quickly, and he abruptly turned to go down to his office. However, Ginny called him back.   
"Yeah?" he asked, pausing in the doorway.   
"So ... can I still come to you guys' lunch thing?"   
He stared at her. "Of course," he replied, amazed she had to ask. "It's at 2 o'clock tomorrow at the Three Broomsticks."   
"Good," she said, smiling at him prettily before biting her lip. "Then ... it's a date."   
Their gazes locked for a split second, but then Ginny immediately looked back down at what she was doing. He nodded, more to himself than her, and managed to make it all the way to his office before his knees gave way and he collapsed into his chair. 'A date,' he mused, staring at the ceiling. 'Indeed'

Ginny stared at the file on her desk, blushing furiously. That had been an awkward confrontation between her and Harry. They'd become more and more frequent, more and more awkward ... and she was hating it. Damn Harry's cowardice. And she used to think him brave -- ha. He couldn't ask her out, for Heaven's sake, ... and the time had come for drastic action. If she planned her moves carefully, she'd have a date with Mr. Potter by the end of the week.   
She smiled a little, and remembered the way he'd looked at her. He mus've been two inches from her face ... why had she pulled away? Oh, yeah, that's right, because she's an idiot? And maybe because ... well .   
She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling Perhaps she had pulled back from him because she was just as scared of this relationship as he was.


End file.
